


Territory

by canis_m



Series: Better Living Through Pheromones [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Come Marking, D/s undertones, Daddy Kink, M/M, Omega Will, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Watersports, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:25:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canis_m/pseuds/canis_m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day at the beach on Captiva.  Hannibal suggests a new activity.  Will feels out of his depth--until he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Territory

Hannibal preferred to swim in the afternoon, when air and water were at their warmest. He was a regular swimmer at his health club in Baltimore, Will knew; it helped to account for his muscular leanness. But Will had never seen him in the water before they'd come to the island. 

The strokes of his crawl were rigorous. He swam in the Gulf as he might have in an Olympic-sized pool, doing laps in keeping with his habit. His navy swim trunks were a far cry from Will's baggy shorts, form-fitted in the European mode. Form-fitted and tight.

Will sat in the shade of the beach umbrella, nursing a tumbler of iced tea and a copy of _The Voyage of the Beagle_. He suspected hours had passed since he'd remembered to turn a page. Eventually he discarded pretense and set Darwin aside. He took a drink from the tumbler and succeeded in dripping tea all over his belly. 

Finishing his laps, Hannibal came rising from the water like Phorcys, wiping droplets from his face with both palms. He waded forward until he stood only hip-deep, then stopped, shading his eyes with one hand as he looked at Will.

"Won't you join me?"

"I already did my swimming," Will said.

"Just to indulge me, then."

Will sat his throne for another minute, surveying Hannibal, pretending to mull. Then he made a little show of acquiescence: sunglasses placed on the arm of the chair, tumbler wedged into a divot of sand. He ambled to the water's edge. 

At first contact the water always felt too cool, but once he'd immersed himself, it would feel good. He waded within range of Hannibal, paused, then hurtled forward in a leaping belly-flop. The splash of his landing doused them both. Hannibal didn't quite splutter, but he wiped his face and eyed Will with shark eyes as Will grinned and dog-paddled away. 

Together they meandered further from shore. Now and then Will put a foot down, testing the depth, but mostly he paddled, treading water without touching bottom. Safer that way--the water was murky. You never knew what you might be stepping on down below.

"Should've brought a noodle," he said.

"A noodle," said Hannibal, in the tone that implied some rare nuance of English idiom had escaped him.

"You know. A pool noodle." Will squinted. "You know what a pool noodle is, right?"

"A length of polyethylene foam, often colorful--"

"Just checking." Will ducked under the surface and came up again, tasting salt. He stretched out into a back float, keeping one eye on Hannibal. The view from the beach had been fine, but the close-up wasn't bad, either. "It's a good look on you," he said. Hannibal's eyebrows rose, inviting elaboration. "Wet," said Will. "Mostly naked."

"And on you." Hannibal swam closer. "If pirates still sailed these waters, they would steal you away as the Tyrrhenians did young Dionysus from the shore."

"No ropes could hold him, as I recall."

"None. He transformed into a lion aboard the ship." Hannibal's tone grew reminiscent, as if he'd witnessed the events himself. "The pirates flung themselves overboard. Only the helmsman was spared, who saw the god in the boy and bowed before him."

"Would you be helmsman or pirate?"

"The helmsman too was a pirate," said Hannibal. "A more perceptive pirate than the rest. For that, he was permitted to worship."

"Worship, huh." Tipping his head back, Will stretched out and pointed his toes skyward. His arms paddled lazily. "How'd he go about that?"

"They were alone on the ship. Who can say?"

"I thought you might have apocryphal knowledge." For a while Will bobbed with the swells and dips of the waves, then lowered his feet to the silty bottom. He wasn't eager to get out of the water, not now that he'd gotten in, but he'd miscalculated how much iced tea he could hold. He turned reluctantly toward the beach. "I'll be back in a little bit."

"What, leaving so soon?"

"I need to use the little boys' room."

"Is that all," said Hannibal. He sidestroked, interposing himself between Will and shore. Momentum brought them close together. "Don't go in," he said mildly. "Do it here."

Will opened his mouth, then shut it. He peered at the droplets studding Hannibal's chin. "Why?"

"Why not?" 

"I'm surprised at you, Dr. Lecter. Were you one of those awful little kids who peed in the pool?"

"I never had occasion." Hannibal's glance encompassed the vastness that extended to the horizon. "This is hardly a pool."

Will knew he wouldn't be the first person to piss in the Gulf of Mexico. To say nothing of the first animal. Turtles did it. Dolphins did it. Seabirds dropped bombs from on high. He'd probably done it himself as a kid, when he'd been too young to know better. 

"Still seems kind of--"

"Naughty? But Daddy likes it when you're naughty." 

When Will huffed and splashed and began to draw away, intending to put distance between them, Hannibal caught hold of his waist and held him. "Don't go. Do it here." He spoke into Will's ear. "Do it on me." 

The words sent a spike of heat through Will. It was at least half incredulity, and he didn't try putting a name to the rest. In the water was one thing. On Hannibal was another. 

"Are you kidding?"

"Not at all." 

Hannibal seemed serene. Their conversation from the previous day returned to Will, his own dismissive line about _pissing on your territory_ included. He'd been kidding, or thought he had, and then Hannibal had blindsided him with that whole other proposition. The moral of the story was never joke about any deviant practice in front of Hannibal ever again. Not unless he wanted to be taken up on it.

On the beach he'd thought he had plenty of leeway, but the pressure on his bladder was demanding now, the need stronger, the liquid sound and feel of water around him too suggestive. He peered over Hannibal's shoulder, scanning furtively up and down the beach. No sign of anyone in sight. That didn't mean one of the neighbors wouldn't suddenly appear. 

"What if somebody--"

"No one will see. I'm right beside you, and I can't see anything." 

It was true. Everything below Will's sternum was lost to the murk. Anyone who caught sight of him and Hannibal from the beach would see only the two of them enjoying the water, shades of ordinary PDA. Nothing to bat an eye at. 

Will licked his lips. "Okay. If you're serious--"

"I am." Hannibal gathered him close. "Here. Let Daddy help you." The tone was steady, reassuring. Will didn't feel reassured. He felt unmoored. 

Hannibal's hands moved under the water. He unlaced the drawstring of Will's shorts, slipped them down past Will's hips, stroked the bared curve of his hipbones. He took Will's shaft gently in hand. A tremor passed through Will. He was soft for now, but at this rate he wouldn't be for much longer. 

Huddling closer, he hid his face against Hannibal's neck. Hannibal brought the head of Will's cock to nudge against his own stomach, then slid his arms around Will's waist. 

Will clutched at his shoulder and shut his eyes.

"Go on," murmured Hannibal. "Don't be shy. I want you to." He turned his head to kiss the side of Will's temple, Will's ear, then his neck, latching on to suck and coax a mark onto the skin. Will shivered again, cock twitching. 

He shut his eyes tight and let himself go. 

The stream hit Hannibal and spread between them, hot on their bellies. Will's mouth opened on an exhalation of relief. Hannibal rubbed his knuckles up and down Will's back, parallel to his spine. He went on murmuring into Will's ear, low-voiced-- _there_ and _that's it_ \--until Will had emptied himself out. The cloud of warmth between them lingered for a minute before dissipating into coolness all around. 

Will clung to Hannibal's shoulder like a flagging swimmer to a buoy. Spangles played behind his closed eyelids, the afterburn of light on the water's surface. He felt winded, limp with release, but his cock was still pressed against Hannibal's stomach, beginning to thicken in earnest. 

Hannibal slid a hand to his nape and stroked him there, fingering the wet curls. The gentling drew a reedy sound from Will's throat. 

He nudged his hips closer. He didn't open his eyes. 

"You wanna do it too?" he asked.

Breath on his ear. "Would you let me?"

"'S why you wanted me to do it, isn't it? So I'd feel like letting you."

"And do you? Feel like letting me."

Their heads were tucked close together, close enough that Hannibal couldn't help but feel Will's nod. It saved Will from blurting aloud any of the answers in his head: _yeah_ or _you dirty son of a_ or _please, Daddy, do it on me._

Hannibal wasted no time, as if he thought the assent might be transient. He let go of Will's waist to peel his own shorts down. He drew Will close with one hand, laid his dick against Will's belly with the other. 

Even though Will expected it, the burst of heat startled him this time, coming suddenly as it did, from outside instead of within. He sucked in a breath. Hannibal sighed and swayed his hips in gentle mimicry of thrusting. The motion rubbed the head of his cock on Will as he pissed. 

The bloom of warmth dissolved away. When Hannibal was done he cupped Will's neck to draw his head back, just enough to let him brace his brow against Will's. It was too close for eye contact, but Will could see the crinkles around Hannibal's eyes, the pleasure suffusing his face. 

"My good boy." He nuzzled at Will's nose.

"Thought you said I was naughty," said Will. He tried for lightness, but his voice wobbled.

"Naughty's good."

Shaking his head, Will put his chin on Hannibal's shoulder. "Makes perfect sense," he said.

The force of the waves suddenly strengthened. Will turned to the horizon to see a motorboat speeding by off shore. The remnants of its wake surged around them, raising swells that curved and burst into froth when they struck the beach. 

When the wake had passed, Will drew away from Hannibal. The sunlight seemed brighter than it had before, the glare of its reflections more intense. It was hard to endure without sunglasses. 

His erection had stalled and ebbed. He pulled up his swim trunks and tied the string. "I'm getting out," he said.

A beat passed. "Just out, or up to the house?"

"I might go up."

"If you do, I'll follow," said Hannibal. "And I'll bring our things."

Will nodded without looking at him and headed for shore.

*

After his shower Will ensconced himself on the lanai, not on the daybed but in one of the cushioned rattan chairs. He sat in it with legs folded on the seat cushion, _The Voyage of the Beagle_ on his lap. 

He never opened the book. Instead he watched a pair of ospreys wheel over the Gulf, calling to one another with their high, thin cries like slivers in the air. A breeze stirred the palm fronds outside the screens of the lanai to a continuous hiss. 

The door to the bedroom slid open. A hand touched Will's shoulder, but didn't linger, as if unsure of its reception.

"May I join you? Or would you like to be alone with your book?"

Will glanced up at Hannibal. He could feel the helpless softening of his own face. "You can stay."

Hannibal seated himself in the chair opposite Will's. He set a glass of Chablis on the table at its side. He'd showered, too, and gotten dressed: beige slacks and white shirt, two buttons open. The dissolute depths of casual, for him. 

"You've been very quiet," he said.

Will shifted his legs in the chair. "Just...unsettled." 

"About what we did?" 

Will looked down at the book in his lap. He thumbed one of the ragged corners, then nodded. Hannibal waited, seemingly without expectation, for Will to continue or not.

"There was a case," Will said at last. "I was briefly involved. The killer liked to urinate on his victims." An alpha, because of course it had been an alpha. "Before and after."

"To degrade them?"

"Not in his mind. In his mind he was 'anointing' them. Bestowing a boon." Meanwhile in the real world, the victims ended up dead and stinking, drenched in piss. 

"And what I asked you to do--it reminded you of this killer's behavior?"

Will's mind had made the connection, justified or not. "I know it's not the same."

Hannibal leaned forward, searching out Will's gaze. "I never meant to raise such associations. I have no wish to degrade you, Will. I hope you can believe that."

"I do. I know." Will looked away from him, out through the screens, toward the Gulf. "For you it was...transgression. Not transgressing against me. Getting me to transgress with you." Doing it out in the open only added savor, probably. A dash of exhibitionism to season the pot. Will turned his face toward Hannibal. He felt distantly oracular as he spoke. "You'd do it again, wouldn't you. Not just in the water. You'd do it anywhere I let you."

"Scent marking is a primal urge. I'm not immune to it. When I come on you, or inside you, that's a form of marking. Unless I'm much mistaken, you don't dislike it."

 _Don't dislike_ was understatement. Will didn't need to be an alpha with a hyperactive nose to understand Hannibal's urge to plaster his scent all over Will, the desire for them to smell entirely of one another. He wasn't immune to it, either. He frowned. "You've never made me feel ashamed of that. Of liking it. Of liking anything."

"Nor should you be."

"Yeah, well. Ejaculation isn't excretion."

"The connotation is different, and that troubles you."

Will shot him a flat look. "When my dogs lift their legs at a fence post, it's not out of affection for the post. And yes, I know we're not dogs. Pissing on someone still isn't exactly an expression of esteem."

"Not typically," said Hannibal. "But consider what you said of spanking. Often construed as a punishment, yet it needn't be that, even a semblance of it, if neither of us regards it in that way."

Will sat back in his chair. His fingers drummed a pattern on the rattan. "So we make our own connotations. Not degrading, not anointing, just...what?"

Hannibal schooled his face into earnestness, a physician on the verge of diagnosis. "I believe the term you used was 'hot'?" 

Will coughed out a laugh in spite of himself. 

"But our tastes may differ here. I don't want to do anything you find distasteful. Let alone anything so displeasing that you turn your back and abandon me to the sea."

"It wasn't like that," said Will.

"No?"

All at once it was easy to look Hannibal in the eye, straight on, and Will did. "I liked it. Then I felt weird about liking it. Sometimes I need a minute, Hannibal."

Hannibal bowed his head. "Of course." He reached for his wine, then paused, peeking up at Will from under the fringe of his bangs. "I'm sorry, I should have offered earlier. May I bring you a glass?"

It was ridiculous, thought Will, for a grown-ass man--an alpha in his forties--to act cute. It was more ridiculous to be a sucker for the cuteness. Will shook his head and hauled himself out of his chair, beckoning with a tilt of his chin. 

"C'mere."

He flopped onto the daybed, landing on his side. Hannibal followed his lead, clambering around Will to settle with his front to Will's back, both of them braced by the pillows. He pressed his nose to Will's hair and sighed.

Will peered back halfway over his shoulder. "Should you even be offering to ply me with booze? Should I be drinking?"

"Your faith in my spermatozoa is gratifying," said Hannibal, muffled into his hair, "but the chance you'll conceive before your next heat is extremely small." He paused. "We're about as likely to experience a shark attack while swimming."

"That likely, huh." 

"So, I think you may as well partake a little longer. Would you like something?"

"Maybe later," said Will. "Don't get up." 

Hannibal didn't. He breathed into Will's curls. He laid a hand on Will's nape and stroked it, lightly kneading. Will's eyelids drooped. He let the heady sense of comfort surround and subsume him.

"You did like it, then?" asked Hannibal. "Not only for my sake, but for your own?"

"Sometimes it's hard to distinguish. But yeah." Will knew he was prone--even more than most omegas--to losing track of his own pleasures amid those of an alpha he gave a damn about pleasing. Still, he could find them again if he tried. "It felt intimate."

"The sharing of a private act. One rarely shared." Hannibal's hand smoothed over Will's shoulders, down his back. He seemed on the verge of saying more, but remained silent. 

Hearing the unspoken question, Will answered. "We can do it again, if you want. If it can be like that."

"In the water, or out of it?"

Will glanced back over his shoulder. Hannibal was making his innocent face. Will huffed through his nose.

"In the shower, maybe? Just keep easing me into it. It's working for you so far."

He watched little glints come alight in Hannibal's eyes, not just at the acceptance, but at knowing Will had seen exactly what he was doing, and was prepared to play along. There was something else, too, something more elusive--a glimmer of possibility or the recognition of it.

"I'll take your advice," Hannibal said.

He bent to Will's neck and kissed him there, with small, discrete presses of his lips. Then he pulled up Will's t-shirt and kissed down his spine, pausing only at the waistband of his shorts.

Will's smile went crooked. "You seem to be heading south."

"There's a certain gravitational pull," said Hannibal.

It must be gravity, too, that tugged Will's shorts down. An irresistible physical law. Will rolled onto his stomach and drew up one leg to offer better access. He considered that Hannibal wanting to piss on him was not especially more or less strange--or filthy, or kinky, or any other aspersion one might cast--than Hannibal wanting to make out with his ass. As Hannibal frequently did. 

Will sighed at the first warm, wet lick of Hannibal's tongue, at the warm, wet sounds that came with it. His back arched. His fingers curled under the pillow. He closed his eyes and canted his hips up, leaning in as much as he could to the soft kisses to his hole.

In heat he could stand only so much of this before the need to be fucked overtook him. At the moment felt he could lie prone and let Hannibal do it for hours. Maybe indefinitely. When his cock began to grow insistent, he rolled his hips to rub lazily into the cushion below. Hannibal accommodated the shifting motions, slipping his tongue in deep when Will's hips rocked back. 

"Oh." Will rolled his face in the pillow, mouth gone slack. "Tha's good." A trickle of drool soaked the fabric under his chin. He hoped the owners of the house wouldn't be too upset about surprise reupholstery of their daybed, because the daybed was going to need it by the time he and Hannibal were through. He wiped his mouth and groaned. "Hannibal--"

"Mm?"

"Fuck, that's good."

He could feel the smug smile against his ass. Hannibal tongued him a little longer for good measure, then turned him onto his back. He crouched over Will on hands and knees, lips wet and eyes gleaming. He looked as though he wanted to do too many things to Will to decide which.

Feeling helpful, Will reached for the fastening of Hannibal's trousers to undo it. He looked up at Hannibal, blinking slow, indolent blinks. It was as close as he got to batting his lashes.

"Didn't you offer me a drink?" 

Hannibal's gaze fixed on Will's mouth. "I did."

He crawled off and stood to shed his shirt, his trousers, the silk boxers beneath. Then he climbed back onto the bed, grasping the headboard as he straddled Will's chest. His cock wavered in front of Will's face, flushed and erect. 

"Is this what you want?" 

Will nodded. He curled one hand around the shaft to guide it. Hannibal eased his hips forward until the tip of the glans nudged Will's parted lips.

He slid in. The head filled Will's mouth. Will breathed hard through his nose, flustered by the sudden enormity of taste and scent, by the weight and girth and heat of it. His vision blurred. Hannibal eased back, waiting.

"Too much?"

Will shook his head. Hannibal touched the corner of his lips, coaxed them further open with the pad of his thumb, and slid back in. A faint sound stopped in Will's throat.

Hannibal kept one hand on the headboard. With the other he cupped the side of Will's face, stroked the curls of hair behind his ear, his cheek. His thrusts were careful, controlled--Will wasn't practiced at taking him deep--but the expression on his face went to pieces, a shambles of pleasure. His stroking grew more erratic the longer he fucked. 

His head tipped back. He spoke in a sigh, voice tremulous with low approval. "You love it, don't you. Taking me like this. In your mouth or your hole, it doesn't matter." He let go of the headboard to cradle Will's face in both hands as he thrust--still careful but faster now, finding the pace he needed. "You feel so beautiful, Will."

Will shut his eyes. He swallowed the moan that felt caught under his hyoid bone, afraid Hannibal would hear and think he'd pushed too far, too deep. He clutched at Hannibal's hips, at the meat of his ass to feel the muscles tighten and twitch. 

"That's it--beautiful, ah--drink now, drink for me--"

The first spurts filled Will's mouth. The rest spattered his lips and chin as Hannibal dragged himself out. He gazed down at Will--at the mess he'd made of him--with eyes gone dark, teeth showing. Will swallowed and gulped for air. 

They both panted. Will found he was still gripping Hannibal's ass, and let go. He could feel drips of come clinging to his stubble, to the corner of his lips. Hannibal touched the wetness, not to wipe it away but in affirmation. Then he lowered himself onto Will, until his full weight rested on him, between Will's splayed legs. He licked at Will's mouth and kissed him, tasting his own leavings. Will clutched, scraping his back and shoulders with hooked fingers. He reveled in the press of Hannibal's weight, the slide of his stomach against Will's pinned cock. 

They kissed over and over. Hannibal bit at Will's jaw, the column of his neck. He slid a hand between them and wrapped it around Will, palming down and up until Will flinched and arched and came on both of them, spattering their bellies.

Hannibal rose up on his hands, shoulders rippling. His head hung down, bent like a leopard's over a pool. He reached for Will's hand to lay it flat on his stomach, over the trails of Will's come.

"Go on." His voice had gone to gravel. His hand covered Will's, urging it to move. "Rub it in." He didn't say _for Daddy,_ but Will could hear it, if only in his head.

Will did as he was told, smearing the streaks into his skin, staring at the motions of his own hand. Hannibal watched him do it. Then he sank, slumping onto Will and mashing their chests together. Their mouths found each other again. The kisses trailed into nuzzling before Hannibal shifted to his side.

He lay next to Will, face soft and eyes heavy-lidded. More often than not sex seemed to act on him as a stimulant, not a soporific, but he looked drowsy now, almost drugged. Will smoothed the disheveled fringe where it fell over Hannibal's brow. 

"Gonna have to clean up all over again," he murmured.

Hannibal scarcely opened an eye. "Must you?" He draped an arm over Will's hip to hold him. "Not yet."

Will nudged for another kiss and was given it. Maybe they wouldn't shower. They could go back to the beach, sticky as they were, smelling as they did. Hannibal would like it if he proposed it.

He wondered how it would be if he lured Hannibal into the tangle of sea grapes that encircled the house, at twilight in the close green darkness, and told Hannibal to do there what he'd done in the water. If he said _do it, I want you to do it,_ and meant it. He could picture Hannibal's face if he did. But he was supposed to be easing in.

They had tickets for the ferry in the morning. In the haze of the early hour Will would shuffle to the bathroom, half-asleep, and Hannibal would step into the shower with him. They might lean together under the spray, let a full night's worth of need spill out and cover each other with liquid heat. The shower would rinse it away. But Will would know they had done it, and Hannibal would know, and the knowing would linger between them, like scent. 

*

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to brokengravity for the error catch.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr: unicornmagic.tumblr.com


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